Tristan hadn't expected her to take the suggestion well, which was why he had emphasized that he personally trusted the director and the hospital. Still, the look Pippa gave him was worse than he had expected. Was she actually angry with him? Surely she had to understand her circumstances. But no, she was unwell in body and in mind. He should expect anything and nothing from her while she was in this state.

He did not speak, allowing her some time to process the suggestion and feelings it provoked. Most patients did not like to acknowledge their illness and there was so much stigma and popular myths surrounding asylums that very few went there voluntarily if they could help it. Pippa would need some time.

And so, when she got up and asked to be excused, he did not protest. "Of course," he said as gently as he could. He worried about her walking up the stairs alone, and followed her out to watch her go, but when he heard the door close, he figured she would be alright for now, and he breathed out a long, exhausted sigh. He was certain all the shit of these last few months had aged him by twenty years. He felt it now. He didn't know how much longer he could go on before he too broke.

Then he heard the chair scrape and a thud and he rushed up the stairs, cursing under his breath. He knelt by her side and took her wrist to feel for a pulse. "Pippa?"